


i used to love the taste, i would do anything for it (now i would do anything to get the taste out of my mouth)

by subtlyhaught



Category: Charlie's Angels (2019), Charlie's Angels (Movies)
Genre: (but only mentioned) - Freeform, F/F, either way its 1.4k words of fluff uwu, hi its 3am and i gotta be up in four hours i did not think id post this tonight, i just love them and thats the tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21742966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlyhaught/pseuds/subtlyhaught
Summary: “It’s 10am, baby,” Elena said, bringing her - now probably cold - coffee to her lips.“Exactly,” Sabina said, cracking her knuckles, and Jane felt Elena wince. “Time to get movin’.”
Relationships: Elena Houghlin/Jane Kano/Sabina Wilson
Comments: 16
Kudos: 178





	i used to love the taste, i would do anything for it (now i would do anything to get the taste out of my mouth)

**Author's Note:**

> i am entirely convinced sabina listens to pinegrove and peach pit and the front bottoms and that resulted in this. personally i think her fav front bottoms song bounces between the beers, maps, and father, but maps is so fun to bounce around to, so here we be!
> 
> i dont normally write fluff and i didn't proof read from like, 700 words onwards so i am so sorry if it reads odd, i dont know what im doing :')))) also this was gonna be a bit longer but i ran out of ways to describe them dancing and was running out of inspo for this idea so i just finished it off hopefully it dont feel too abrupt
> 
> both the song in the fic and the title is from maps by the front bottoms !!

Jane wouldn’t say her music taste was _limited._

It’s just that Sabina owed records on records of garage rock and indie rock and every other kind of _rock_ you could imagine, and Jane didn’t. Jane hadn’t actually ever heard a garage rock song before Sabina had (both metaphorically and literally) tumbled into her life. Now it was a rarity if she heard much else.

Elena never complained; it wasn’t the kind of music Jane had pegged her to enjoy, but then again, Elena listened to N-Sync unironically and knew every word to Gold Digger by Kanye West. Or, she listened to some obscure indie band Jane didn’t know (“you’ve never heard of _Florist_ before? Oh I’m about to rock your world.”), really, there was no in between. Jane could never nail her down to one genre. 

When Sabina wasn’t home, the safehouse was mostly silent, save for Jane and Elena’s chatter and some keys tapping here and there. The two of them communicated mostly through actions and looks, which served Jane just fine. They’d brew their morning coffee, with good morning kisses pressed to temples, and the grazing of hands that felt like sparks of magic. Jane would lay on the couch with a book propped up on her stomach, and Elena would pull out her laptop and tap some more code into whatever thing she was programming that day. Eventually, the day would come to a close with either Elena’s head tucked under Jane’s chin, or with Jane wrapped around Elena’s hunched over frame, coaxing her to bed with gentle words mumbled into the nape of her neck. Jane’s love language laid in the _doing,_ not the saying, and Elena seemed to get that. They worked, and it was easy, and it was quiet. 

Today was not one of those days.

The morning started the same; there wasn’t much change in routine possible when Jane was always the first up. She carefully disentangled her limbs from Sabina’s, eased Elena off her back, and wriggled her way out of the sheets to get set on brewing coffee. Elena stumbled out just a few minutes after Jane had, bare-faced and yawning, clad only in an oversized sweater Jane was sure belonged to Sabina. She muttered a jumbled _morning, baby_ and stretched, feeling her way around the kitchen. It was maybe an hour of this calm. Jane stood propped against the kitchen counter, while Elena had opted to slot herself right under Jane’s chin, and they spent a good while just talking; exchanging stories of missions and literature and Elena’s coding adventures. 

And then Sabina woke up.

“Good _fucking_ morning, beautifuls,” was hurtled at them, followed immediately by Sabina, sliding out of their bedroom on her socks with some sort of perfect balance. “Why’s it so glum in here?”

Jane quirked an eyebrow, her arms sliding around Elena’s waist. “It’s not.”

“It kind of is,” Sabina countered, bouncing on the balls of her feet a bit. Jane could tell she was itching to do something - her fingers were twitching with a kind of incessant need to be moving.

“It’s 10am, baby,” Elena said, bringing her - now probably cold - coffee to her lips.

“Exactly,” Sabina said, cracking her knuckles, and Jane felt Elena wince. “Time to get _movin’.”_

After that, it took exactly 10 seconds for music to begin blaring around the kitchen.

Sabina had done her trademark sock slide over to a stereo system that was set up in the walls. It had been there before the three of them had kind of claimed the safehouse as their shared living space, and now it was Sabina’s baby, so they couldn’t remove it. Jane barely touched the thing, but Elena would put on some classical music every now and again when they were working. Sabina, in contrast, seemed like she couldn’t function in the mornings _without_ her garage rock playlist resounding loudly around the space.

The blonde put on a song Jane didn’t recognize, but the second the first slam on the guitar started, Sabina let out a loud _“whoop!”_ and jumped a bit on the spot. She slid back over to Jane and Elena, grin wide and overtaking and so, _so_ endearing. The singer’s voice began filtering through the speakers, and Sabina’s eyes caught on Elena’s.

“Oh, nononono,” Elena began, turning her body so her face was hidden in Jane’s chest, her cup of coffee cold against their skin. 

“Oh, _yes,”_ Sabina said, practically bouncing over to the brunette and pulling her by the hips. The movement was gentle, and was met with no resistance by Elena, just a hopeless glance at Jane as she was dragged away. Jane let out a laugh at the doe eyed look, and just managed to pluck Elena’s mug from her hands before the girl was out of reach.

She was pulled into the open space that was just near the kitchen, half connected to the closest thing three spies could get as a living room. Sabina spun her around, taking both of Elena’s hands in her own and beginning to move them, causing a laugh to slip past Elena’s lips. It was an awkward kind of shimmy on Elena’s part, but she let Sabina spin her and sway her and recite lyrics in her face, and Jane could only watch, completely endeared, as Elena burst into a fit of giggles in response. 

_“And I move slowly,”_ Sabina was saying, voice straining to reach the singers low notes. She pulled Elena flush against her, eliciting a little squeak from the brunette, and maneuvering her into a terrible rendition of a waltz. _“Just slow enough to make you uncomfortable.”_

Elena threw her head back laughing while Sabina moved her around the open space, narrowly avoiding stepping on each others toes as the song progressed, and Jane lost herself in the sight of her two loves.

Working for Townsend was probably the most stressful job any of them could have chosen, but Jane knew, at her core, that she wouldn’t give it up for the world. It led her to this, to _her_ world, in the shape of bleach blonde hair and delicate skin. Watching Sabina and Elena try (and fail miserably) to waltz warmed her insides in a way she’d never thought possible when accepting her position.

Sabina spun Elena once, twice, then let go of her hand. Her eyes shifted to the kitchen, where Jane was still tucked into the corner, and Jane almost rethought everything that had passed through her mind at the sight of the mischief on Sabina’s face. 

_“And you’re so confident,”_ Sabina sang, approaching Jane with her arms outstretched, her shoulders and fingers wriggling. _“But I hear you crying in your sleeping bag.”_

She rounded the counter, and Jane tried to push herself further into her corner, putting a hand up to stop Sabina. “‘Bina, _no.”_

It did nothing to stop Sabina’s advances, and Jane could hear Elena’s laughter from somewhere in the distance. _“But you were broken bad yourself,”_ Sabina continued, grasping Jane’s hand in one of her own, and Jane realized she kind of walked right into that one. _“And you were mad as hell, you felt,”_

“Sabina Wilson, don’t you dare-”

And then she was being pulled, and her vision was all arms and legs and blonde hair. She was drug into the open space, nearly colliding with Elena, who was bent over laughing. Likely at how distressed Jane was sure she looked. 

“Loosen those giant limbs!” Sabina said, grasping both her wrists and wriggling them around as though they were battle ropes.

“I don’t dance,” Jane said, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle the second a smile threatened to squeeze its way onto her face.

“Chamonix would bed to differ,” Elena now, getting the words out through wheezes.

“See! Elena gets it and she wasn’t even there for that,” Sabina said, wriggling Jane’s wrists again and smiling, dorkishly wide and impossible to resist. 

And Jane let herself be led.

Sabina turned around, draping Jane’s arms across her shoulders and engaging in a kind of fast sway, something much more Jane’s speed. She was singing words Jane didn't recognize and stepping on her feet, and somewhere behind them Elena was clapping and cheering and Jane let herself feel. Completely and wholly in this moment, with Sabina practically yelling, _“One day you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom,”_ and Elena hollering obscenities. This was just… it.

(The song might’ve ended with Jane and Elena picking up the words to the chorus and joining in while Sabina chanted, _“there is a map in my room, on the wall of my room,”_ all the while bouncing around and laughing, and really, Jane found she had immense love for all her rowdy mornings too.

Even when they resulted in Boz sharply switching on their comms to inform them that, _please, god, it is 10am and I had tequila last night, turn that down.)_

**Author's Note:**

> @ i-said-oops on tumblr come yell your hcs at me


End file.
